


Postcards from Helsinki

by hauntedd



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Clones, F/M, Femdom, Gen, Jealousy, Season/Series 03, Top Side, helsinki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-24 19:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3782137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedd/pseuds/hauntedd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A self-preservation act in stages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

The first time Rachel considers Helsinki is in a staff meeting. 

They’d been discussing the possibility of bringing the scientist— _PhD student_ —into self-awareness. 324b21 has been the darling of the experiment for years now and all of the fools at DYAD talk about her as if they’re proud parents. 324b21 is simply a subject, one of hundreds, in fact. It’s pathetic, really, how attached they all seem to get to one of the subjects just because she happens to share a common interest.

Evolutionary Developmental Biology, to be precise.

Ironic, she muses, how the fates have aligned in such a way that one of them has followed a similar path.

“You see, if we brought her in, we would have someone who—“

Someone who would be _dead_. She’d make certain of it. Rachel cannot afford a rival, someone else with the same unique vantage point as her own. Nor can Top Side afford the risk to its operations. 

Top Side has acted before in such situations, once, in Helsinki back in 2006. She isn’t certain about the particulars, but she knows this. Top Side will act again if they bring the girl into the fold, regardless of DYAD’s fascination with the subject.

Rachel isn’t supposed to be aware of previous subjects who’d become self-aware and the risks they’d posed. They try to keep several things from her, as if they might affect her objectivity, but Rachel has resources and allies at her disposal.

She’d learned early on that her role here was yet another facet of the experiment. Her knowledge of Helsinki is simply _insurance_ that a similar fate does not befall her.

“Dr. Nealon. You’re late.” Rachel interrupts as the older man enters the room with file folders clutched to his chest. This is unlike him, he’s always punctual and precise, two qualities Rachel appreciates in her senior staff. Despite the convenience of shutting down this pointless debate, she expects a good explanation for his delay.

“Yes. I apologize, Miss Duncan. However, I was reviewing the samples from Elizabeth Childs and came across something interesting.”

“Did she finally get sober? The monthly procedures to keep her alive are rather costly—“

“No.” Good, then. She doesn’t have to put her alternate plans to eliminate Beth Childs and her _investigations_ into motion just yet. If her lack of sobriety drains much more of their budget, Rachel has received approval to suspend the detoxification program they’d taken up to preserve their investment in 314a15. The rest will take care of itself.

The illness is spreading. There are other priorities to consider.

Dr. Nealon is still speaking and Rachel drags herself away from her thoughts to listen. She is morbidly fascinated with the pills that Miss Childs has experimented with over the last six months. “In fact, the subject whose blood we sampled wasn’t 314a15 at all. It was 302e09.”

“302e09—Helena? She’s here?” Aldous nearly jumps out of his seat as the serial number is read aloud. His attachment issues continue to prove problematic.

302e09 is a risk. One that Top Side cannot simply endure. She will have to phone Marion later and give her an update—he may have raised her, but her loyalty is to the project first. Aldous Leekie cannot be allowed to let this one live.

Marion might have a gentle heart, ever since she’d adopted that failed trial instead of putting it out of its misery, but she’d agree that the Prolethian assassin is a threat that must be put down.

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?”

Rachel muffles a groan at the tenor of Aldous’ voice. He’d always felt personally responsible for the girl who should have been in her place. Rachel hadn’t shared his interest in recovering the asset.

She is the self-aware one. It is useless to dwell on what might have been.

“I ran the samples three separate times to be sure, Dr. Leekie. 302e09 was the subject we sampled last night.”

“So it seems your white whale has swum across the Atlantic and is posing as Beth Childs. _Fascinating_.”

“From what we know of Helena she wouldn’t be able to fool—“

“But she did.” Rachel interrupts, not in the mood to listen to the lot of them debate whether or not the _assassin_ possesses the capability to fool poor fallen soldier Paul Dierden. The science is evidence enough and, as they all have individual markers, they are wasting precious time in debating this.

Helena is a threat. She must be eliminated.

“It seems that way, yes.” Aldous agrees, reluctantly.

“Now the question becomes—what do we do with her?”

Ah, Dr. Nealon, always to the point. It’s this characteristic that pleases her the most.

“We eliminate her, of course.” Rachel answers before Aldous or any of the other bleeding hearts can object to her plan of action. “Survival of the project is vital, and this one threatens that.”

“Rachel—“

Of course he would try to object. She raises an eyebrow and he shuts his mouth into a thin line as he remembers his place. He is her subordinate in this matter and Aldous would do well to keep that in mind as they moved forward.

“Aldous, you will inform the appropriate people and bring her in. We will do this in-house to avoid additional provocation. Is that understood?”

Rachel rises from her seat and the others follow suit, like well-trained dogs eager for their master’s approval. She doesn’t wait for Aldous to agree before leaving the conference room, effectively dismissing them.

She will phone Marion later to ensure that Aldous does as he’s told. This is not the time for sentimentalities.

It is time for action.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Will they have the starch for it? Would anyone at DYAD actually consider eliminating their favorite subject simply because she flew too close to the sun?_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _No. But Top Side might._

Rachel considers Helsinki for the second time over a glass of Futo Red. American wines don’t suit her, however, the selection is fitting given the circumstances. The Supreme Court appears well aligned with Top Side’s interests and all of her lobbying efforts over the past several months have paid off. 

Tonight was to be a night of personal reflection—Rachel’s favorite reward for a job well done.

She’d had Martin ensure that she would not be disturbed this evening, and she’d sent Daniel off to do whatever it is that he does when he is not monitoring her.

It appears, however, that message had not been communicated to Aldous. 

“Aldous, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry Rachel, I know that you wanted to be alone tonight.” He apologizes and Rachel purses her lips. He certainly doesn’t appear to be apologetic. No, Aldous appears to be acting like an anxious child. Ironic, considering he hadn’t permitted her to fidget like this when Rachel was _actually a child_.

“So I will ask again. Why are you here, Aldous?”

“I’ve learned something interesting from Delphine.”

Ah, Delphine Cormier, yes. Aldous’ latest plaything—Rachel hardly pays these women any mind. He finds them starry-eyed and breathless at the possibility of Neolution; so desperate to learn more about the DYAD and the famed Dr. Leekie’s experiments that they spread their legs at the first invitation.

Delphine will be gone within a year. They all are—even the others that he has rewarded by making them monitors. Rachel chooses not to think about what types of acts women like Delphine perform to be considered _promising young scientists_ , so she focuses on the length of their employment with DYAD. It is consistently brief; Aldous’ attention span is only so long, after all.

“I don’t care to discover what French acrobatics you’ve learned from your newest pet, Aldous.”

He deflates slightly at her comment. _Good_. 

“Cosima is self aware.”

Well, that’s unexpected. Yet, Rachel is not surprised that one of his people has chosen to defy her in an attempt to paint her into a corner. Her hand will _not_ be forced, especially in such an obvious fashion. 

Whomever caused this will pay with their life. 

“Cosima?” Rachel asks, one eyebrow raised slightly, as if she’s confused. She just wants Aldous to refer to the subject by her tag number, to remind him that _Cosima_ is simply one of many. 

“324b21,” Aldous clarifies. Rachel exhales as he rattles off the numbers and lets the momentary calm wash over her, putting her mask firmly back into place.

“Is she?” Rachel asks as she rises from her desk, gripping the edges and leaning over the polished wood. “And which one of your staff do I have to terminate to correct this error?”

“No—you misunderstand,” Aldous interrupts, as if he can spin this, save the underling who’s put all their lives at risk. “She’s been in contact, or at least aware of, several other clones _independently_. Katja Obinger, Janika Zingler, Danielle Fournier, Aryanna Giordano—“

Independently. Cosima had discovered her _heritage_ independently, likely through internet searches and newspaper articles, given the clones Aldous is rattling off.

Rachel frowns as she recalls her proposal from the turn of the century to somehow scrub the Leda clones from web searches. She’d only been coming into herself then, and no one had listened to her, they’d underestimated the threat. 

_You’re seventeen, Rachel. It’s a concern, yes, but you overestimate the internet’s reach, my dear. Don’t be upset. You did well for your first showing, and it will get easier to figure out what the true risks are over time._

It seems Aldous’ words are coming back to haunt them all. Poetic, really.

“Sadly, they’re all dead.”

And Cosima will surely join them shortly when word of this gets out. But will they have the starch for it? Would anyone at DYAD actually consider eliminating their favorite subject simply because she flew too close to the sun? 

No. But Top Side might.

Rachel forces down a smile as the thought evolves into an angle, into a _plan_ and turns her attentions back to Aldous before he can gain an inkling into what she is considering. For the greater good, of course. 

“Not all of them. Beth Childs—“

“Who has gone missing,” Rachel interrupts, masking her thoughts with annoyance. “If your blood tests are to be believed.”

“Alison Hendrix—“

Ah, Alison Hendrix, and her bumbling oaf of a monitor, Donnie. They were by far the most boring of them all. Perhaps Cosima and Alison could go have glitter parties and bake sales together. Pathetic.

“—and some woman named Sarah Manning is also on the same sheet of paper.”

Sarah Manning? There is no member of Project Leda by that name—none of them even have a name remotely similar to it. Rachel does not care for surprises and intrigue, and this is certainly that.

“If your old friend Margret hadn’t found god and _died_ I’d assume she’d undergone another name change.”

“That was my first thought as well. But it’s impossible—so I believe that Sarah Manning is another identity for Helena.”

Helena. All roads seem to end with Aldous’ white whale, still on the loose. Still proving to be a thorn in DYAD’s side, millions of dollars in research literally shot down into nothing.

Rachel can almost admire Helena’s savagery from a distance. There is a beauty in how Helena takes without question, plays God in the name of God.

But Helena is feral. The Prolethians have made certain of it, and the conclusion Aldous is drawing does not have any logical basis. It is based on sentimentality, on obsession, not sound reasoning. 

Sarah Manning, whomever she is, is involved. But she is _not_ Helena.

She considers Aldous’ theory for a moment and looks up at him, considering what to say in response. She could drive holes into his theory, burn his hopes into ash, but then—Rachel needs time. Time to evaluate whether or not to eliminate Cosima, time to research Sarah Manning.

This is time she will not have if she tempers Aldous’ foolish quest for Helena. Instead, it is better to fuel it in the short term to buy herself some time.

“I need you to handle the situation with Cosima personally.” Rachel says finally, and he looks at her with barely hidden contempt. She ignores it, Rachel cannot have him anywhere near Sarah Manning, not if she is to figure out that bit of intrigue first.

“Now, before you object,” Rachel continues as she steps closer to Aldous. Her fingers find the lapels of his suit jacket, and she straightens out the wrinkles gently, _like a doting daughter might_. “I believe you may have the right in this. However, you have a direct relationship with Cosima’s monitor. Now is not the time to let Delphine have the run of things. It’s far too risky.”

“Yes, but, Helena is out there and—“

“Why don’t you send one of your people to investigate Tomas and Maggie Chen? At least for now—gather all the intelligence you can and then, once Cosima is in hand, you can go and retrieve your white whale.” Rachel asks, as if she is interested, as if she is invested in Aldous’ search for the girl whose life should have been hers. 

“And in the mean time, I will handle the Sarah Manning research personally. Martin will be instructed to forward all documentation to you immediately. I want to help you find her, Aldous.” 

It is a lie. Rachel wants nothing of the sort, but it is the kind of thing that he will appreciate. It is the kind of lie that Aldous clings to and Rachel manipulates to her advantage. She waits for the smile to stretch across Aldous’ face, as if she’s given him the world.

It’s disgusting. But, it’s for the best that he thinks that Rachel is genuine. If Rachel is genuine, then Aldous will not consider the possibility that this is simply a ploy for more time to determine her next move.

“Yes. That’s a wonderful plan, Rachel. A fair compromise! I’ll get someone right on it in the morning.” Aldous’ hand grips Rachel’s shoulder and gently squeezes it in thanks. Rachel forces a smile to her lips for effect.

“Good night, Aldous.”

“Night, Rachel.”

Rachel waits until she’s certain he’s gone before picking up her glass of wine and sipping. It seems far sourer than it had an hour ago and she frowns at the taste of it on her tongue. 

She reaches into her desk drawer and picks at the top of it for a moment before freeing the item she needs. Rachel can never be too careful in an institution whose main goal was to learn her secrets. She thumbs the index card for a moment, weighing her options before determining that this is the only way to move forward.

Her fingers tap against the glass as she enters the numbers into her mobile phone and takes a long drink before hitting send. A meeting is not a decision, however, Rachel knows that she must consider all of the options available to Top Side, to DYAD.

“Hello, Ferdinand? Yes, this is Rachel Duncan. I would like to set up a meeting. _Discretely_.”


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If she plays her hand too early, she might end up with no cards left to her if circumstances change. 
> 
> Rachel always has a card to play. Therefore, Helsinki, _and Sarah Manning_ , can wait until her asset is more secure.

Rachel waits in her apartment with a glass of Bowmore single malt and Sarah Manning’s official file. It’s rather thin—criminal record, foster mother, foster brother, Brixton-born— _fitting_ —this is intentional. She knows there is more to this story; Rachel simply has elected not to inform Aldous, or any of the other lack-wits she is forced to endure, of it. 

Sarah Manning is fertile. 

Sarah Manning, therefore, has something valuable that Rachel _does not_. For the moment, Sarah Manning is a threat to Rachel’s position. Sarah Manning is Amelia’s daughter just as much as Helena is Amelia’s daughter. 

Twins. Amelia had _twins_. The nutter and the tramp—what a pair those two make. 

It amuses Rachel that there would have been two of them raised for the seat she now holds. As if it required two of them to do the work that she does independently. She is self-aware for a _reason_ , despite observations to the contrary. It is not a question of circumstance, but of right. 

DYAD is Rachel’s birthright. She will not allow anyone to question _that_. 

Rachel places the file down and picks up the other dossier and thumbs the thick file reverently. Ferdinand Terezo. Top Side’s current cleaner and DYAD’s former lead physician for the European portion of the project. 

She’d learned through a thorough review of his history that Ferdinand had been notorious in London for attempting to sample the merchandise, as it were. The dossier contains a wealth of information regarding incidents in which Doctor Terezo was a bit too hands-on with the subjects whilst unconscious. 

Top Side promoted him for it. That willingness to treat them as subjects and not individuals is rare and valuable in some circles. It most certainly is valuable to _her_. 

Rachel intends to use both Ferdinand’s cunning and his desire to her advantage. A man left wanting for nearly thirty years fulfilled and indebted to her. An intriguing weapon to add her arsenal. 

The battles have yet to begin, but this is war nonetheless. Building her army before the first blow is simply prudent. 

She hears a knock at the door and Rachel takes another sip of her drink. The bitter liquid rolls over her tongue, but her grin is so wide that she bares her teeth. Thirty minutes early—Ferdinand is certainly eager. 

Wonderful. 

“Miss Duncan.” He leans against the doorframe, his glasses doing little to soften the near predatory gleam in his eye. She’s uncertain whether it’s the possibility of destruction or her that is reflected in his gaze, but frankly, either will suffice. 

“Ferdinand. Do come in.” 

Rachel relaxes slightly and allows him entry, and he sits on her sofa with legs spread and arms draped across the cushions. Ferdinand is comfortable with this; with her. An oddity amongst Top Side officials, and certainly many of the fools they offer as monitors. 

Daniel holds her at arms length. He’s tense even as he sleeps next to her and while he performs his duties admirably, there is little enjoyment there. If Daniel weren’t useful in other ways, he’d have been replaced by now. 

It should disgust her, how _comfortable_ Ferdinand is in her flat. However, Rachel finds it intriguing. Her proclivities have earned her a reputation of sorts, one she's certain Ferdinand is aware of, and yet he appears almost desperate for confirmation. 

"You wished to discuss Helena?" 

Helena. Yes. At the time of their conversation, Sarah Manning and her progeny hadn't been discovered. This was to be a simple conversation on how to eliminate the Prolethian threat. 

Now Rachel's priorities have evolved, but Helena is still relevant to this conversation. 

"Yes, _Helena_. She's... reappeared, of late." 

"When a rabid animal attacks, you put it down," Ferdinand says, cleaning his glasses with a cloth. " _Quickly_." 

The corners of Rachel's mouth turn upward, this will go far easier than she'd hoped. She tops off her glass of Bowmore and hands another to Ferdinand. "One would think. Aldous, however—" 

"Aldous Leekie is a bloody fool." 

"He raised me, you know," Rachel interrupts. Her words serve as a warning—and a test. Will he falter or rise to the challenge? 

Daniel usually falters. A trend among her monitors over the years. She breaks them quickly—ruining her enjoyment. It's the process she enjoys, these men, sent to watch her every move and make _observations_ , left completely at her mercy. 

Yes, it's their resistance she craves; and the frightened look in their eyes as she systematically destroys it. 

"And yet here you are in spite of _that_." Ferdinand raises his glass and she purses her lips. 

Ah, Ferdinand has elected to rise to the challenge. Wonderful. 

"Yes. Here I am," Rachel states as she sips her drink. "As for Helena, am I to assume that we are in agreement, then?" 

"We have already begun the necessary preparations—" 

"Good." 

She watches him for a moment as they settle into silence, weighing how far to take the conversation. His comfort is intriguing, yes, but it is also a matter of concern. If she plays her hand too early, she might end up with no cards left to her if circumstances change. 

Rachel always has a card to play. Therefore, Helsinki, _and Sarah Manning_ , can wait until her asset is more secure. 

"Take off your shirt," Rachel commands, placing her glass down on the counter. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I'm done discussing business, Ferdinand." 

"Are you now?" He asks, his eyes traveling her body, his teeth shining as his grin turns predatory. 

"Yes," Rachel confirms, standing over him, her arms folded against her chest. "Now, take off your shirt." 

He loosens his tie and discards the shirt without another word. They lie haphazardly on her sofa and she muffles a groan. He will learn to be neater—her home is pristine, even when engaged in more intimate affairs. 

That will come later. 

"Your trousers, Ferdinand." 

"Aren't you a bit overdressed?" 

"Remove. Your. Trousers." Each word is stressed, pointed. Ferdinand complies without protest, his fingers nearly jumping with excitement. He best not come quickly—her pleasure is of upmost importance. 

"The rumors are true," Ferdinand whispers, almost reverently. "Cold, damaged, dirty Rachel." 

"You can leave if you like—" 

She is _not_ damaged. Rachel is in _charge_ , she is in _control_ , and she will destroy anyone who believes otherwise. 

"No. I think I'll stay." 

"Good," Rachel hisses. She picks up the discarded tie and holds it in her hands, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Now stop _talking_." 

Her hands grip his wrists and she squeezes them far harder than necessary as they come together. She wraps the tie and joins his hands together over his head. "No hands. Nobody lays hands on me unless I allow it." 

She walks around the sofa, appraising him. "Ferdinand. Ferdinand the bull." 

“I beg your pardon?” He seems nervous now, with his hands bound and under her scrutiny. This is progressing exactly how she wants it. 

“It’s a children’s story. One that I find… rather appropriate given the current state of our affairs.” 

She turns to face him, standing between his legs. Ferdinand looks up at her reverently, fearfully—as if she is both his salvation and his ruin. She is fully in control now.

“Enlighten me then, Miss Duncan.” 

She leans in closer, her mouth inches from Ferdinand’s ear. “Just like the bull, you look the part. Dangerous. Dark. _Deadly_." 

Rachel bites down on his ear, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark. She sinks down onto him, pinning him to the furniture and finding a rhythm. ”But deep down, Ferdinand, you’re nothing but my little bitch.”


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Men like Ferdinand need things to save, and Rachel needs things to destroy. And to destroy Sarah Manning, she needs her daughter. 
> 
> Kira Manning, therefore, is not a chance at motherhood, but a trophy to be won.

Sarah Manning doesn’t sign the contract. Rachel hadn't expected her to, however, the lack of tact is what lingers, what presses her into action. 

_Up yours pro clone_. 

Rachel responds in kind, lying about Kira and provoking her mother further, exposing her feral anger. She expects that DYAD will come to its senses and dispose of her before the entire experiment is at risk. Sarah Manning _did_ threaten to alert the media. 

Yet, they refuse to see reason. 

Sarah Manning breaks into her office and sticks a _gun_ in her _face_ and Aldous is fascinated by it. The unmonitored tramp throws one tantrum after another, _like a child_ , and it only garners her more attention. Brandishing a weapon is _darling_ when it's Sarah Manning's finger behind the trigger. 

Fools. 

However, it’s only after Daniel’s blood is scattered across her apartment; red contrasting with white, that Rachel makes her move. Aldous tries to explain away the action, and she ignores him. It's clear, watching the security footage of the two rabid dogs leaving hand in hand, that she will have to handle Sarah Manning personally. This is a threat, one that should have been eliminated by now. 

Helsinki is the only option. 

Her first call is to Marion. It’s the logical first step, one that doesn’t cause her other alliances to fall under suspicion, while eliminating an obstacle. She may have grown soft, now that she has that cripple at home, however, she will still eliminate Aldous for getting too close to the subjects. 

With Aldous out of the way, and that insipid corporate climber Delphine in his seat, Helsinki can be put into motion. 

Her second call is to Ferdinand. She's spent time carefully constructing a story about a childhood deprived, choosing to be broken so that Ferdinand will fall into line when the time comes. Men like Ferdinand need things to save, and Rachel needs things to destroy. And to destroy Sarah Manning, she needs her daughter. 

Kira Manning, therefore, is not a chance at motherhood, but a trophy to be won. 

She pours herself a drink and dials his number. It's slightly after seven, which means it's after 1 a.m. in Europe, however Rachel knows he isn't asleep. Most of their more illuminating conversations have occurred after hours. 

He is also due back to Toronto tomorrow afternoon. 

“Ferdinand.” 

“Miss Duncan.” 

“Would you care to meet once you've landed? I have matters to discuss—“ 

“I can’t," Ferdinand replies. He seems disappointed, which pleases her, though the shift in plans certainly does not. "I’m stuck in bloody Zurich.” 

“Zurich?” 

Rachel's mouth turns upward as she sips her martini—dirty, like the business that she is presently engaged in. Top Side's directors are meeting. This means that plans are already in motion, and Marion is playing right into her hand. 

“Management wants me grounded. Something about troubles across the pond," Ferdinand elaborates. "You wouldn’t know anything about that?” 

“Sarah Manning," Rachel spits. 

“Ah, yes. Your nemesis has been making the rounds of late," Ferdinand laughs. Rachel _tsks_ into the receiver and he stops immediately. Good, he is still loyal and well behaved despite their time apart. "It appears she can raise the dead.” 

“Can she now?” 

“Ethan Duncan?” 

Rachel's mood sours a bit. Ethan Duncan, her _deceased_ father. Another topic that she is not supposed to be aware of—Martin is certainly useful for obtaining information. “Yes. About that.” 

“Are you not concerned?” 

She purses her lips and takes a large drink from her glass. _Are you not concerned?_ It's necessary, and effective, but Rachel loathes this performance more with every occurrence. 

_Cold, damaged, dirty Rachel._

Rachel is not broken. She does not need fixing. And she will take Ferdinand down after the others are dealt with for daring to assume that she is the damaged one in all of this. 

"Sarah Manning is a con artist. One that is desperate to leverage her family's _freedom_ with whatever she can." 

"But—" 

This has gone on long enough. There are more important matters than dead Ethan Duncan. Helsinki, for one. 

“Are you questioning my loyalty to Top Side, Ferdinand?” 

“Never,” Ferdinand answers. His voice is elevated, like a dog whining. His breath is slightly labored, as if he's fantasizing a scenario where she's asking him this while on top of him. 

She can use this, so she files it away for later. 

“Good,” Rachel replies. The conversation has shifted back into its proper course. She lowers her voice intentionally, playing into his current train of thought. “Now, about Helsinki—“ 

“These matters are best discussed in person,” he interrupts and Rachel frowns. Helsinki needs to be _discussed_ , it doesn't matter how the conversation occurs. 

“Have you missed me, Ferdinand?” Rachel asks after a moment, unsure if he is being difficult because he isn't fully on board with the operation, or because he simply wants to see her. 

“Desperately.” 

“Make a reservation for Friday at the Kronenhalle," Rachel commands. She books a flight with her tablet and forwards him the confirmation. Normally, she'd use the jet, however, with these meetings off the record, it's best to fly commercial under an assumed name. As a member of Project Leda, she has several to choose from. "I will meet you there at seven.” 

“It’s impossible to get a reservation this late—“ 

Rachel sighs into the receiver as she reviews her notes regarding their dalliances. She needs to use their safe word; to remind Ferdinand exactly what his incentive is in all of this. 

“If you want your _corncob_ , you will do it.” 

Corncob. Such a ridiculous phrase, and the explanation is far worse. He selected it due to its use in bedding for lab rats, and if Rachel truly gave a damn about what Ferdinand thought, she'd be insulted. Instead, it serves as more fuel to dispose of him once Helsinki has been carried out. 

“I want my corncob.” 

Of course he does. Rachel has been counting on it. 

“Then _make the reservation_." 

"I'll have a table ready for Friday." 

"Good. I look forward to it."


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siobhan Saddler will suffer for what she’s done. And when Rachel finally decides to end that woman’s wretched existence, she will have begged for it for so long that her words have left her and her throat is raw from the attempts to bring them back.
> 
> Perhaps she will let Siobhan watch as all that Sarah Manning _is_ is removed from her, organ by organ, piece by piece. They share a weakness— _their children_ —and she will exploit it to destroy them both.

The meeting with her fath— _Professor Duncan_ has driven her to drink—not to excess, that would be _impractical_ , but just enough to take the edge off. The bogtrotter and her threats matter little in the grand scheme of things. And yet, it’s the underhanded way _that woman_ exposed chinks in Rachel’s armor and forced her to cast out Ald— _the man who raised her_ that has fueled her desire for retribution.

Siobhan Saddler will suffer for what she’s done. And when Rachel finally decides to end that woman’s wretched existence, she will have begged for it for so long that her words have left her and her throat is raw from the attempts to bring them back.

Perhaps she will let Siobhan watch as all that Sarah Manning _is_ is removed from her, organ by organ, piece by piece. They share a weakness— _their children_ —and she will exploit it to destroy them both.

_Nurture prevails._

She thumbs through her phone, idly responding to e-mails and putting on a good front. Rachel needs to convince Marion that Aldous evaded their cleaners on his own—not that she’d given him notice of what was to come. He may have burnt her family to the ground, but he’d been the one who had helped her rise from the ashes.

“Rachel.”

He’s early—almost disgustingly so; however, with Aldous lost to her, she minds less than she would under different circumstances.

“Ferdinand.” Rachel answers and hands him a drink without glancing up from her phone—dry martini, Blackwood gin—the highest proof on the menu. It is best to appear disinterested; to make him _work_ for it.

“I don’t care for martinis,” Ferdinand whines and she fixes him with a glare. She has had enough emotion today; Rachel will not suffer childlike behavior.

“You do now.”

Ferdinand sips his drink without further complaint, a wolfish grin on his face once he realizes that their _game_ , as it were, is playing out in public. She allows him these fantasies and illusions of control because they are convenient. But when this is over, she will rid herself of him, quickly and efficiently. The only possible way that two can keep a secret is if one of them is dead.

"Finland is lovely this time of year." Ferdinand smirks and she forces back the urge to tear at him, limb by limb, instead plastering a thin smile onto her face. There is no reason to be coy about it. No one affiliated with Top Side would dare dine at the Kronenhalle on a Friday with all the travelers about, having an _expensive_ meal before departing Switzerland. 

It’s why she’d selected it in the first place.

"Is it?" Rachel asks, her fingers rhythmically tracing the stem of her glass—up and down, mimicking what Ferdinand _wants_ as payment for his role in this. 

"It’s a bit warm at 32 degrees, but with the wind, it always seems 6 degrees cooler."

Six dead clones. Thirty-two collateral. She’d read the file thoroughly.

And yet, all these code words. To serve what purpose? Intrigue? She is _intrigued_ ; evidenced by her request for this meeting. This is irksome and a waste of valuable time.

She will end this poor attempt at flirtation _now_.

“The project is in jeopardy due to recent events, Ferdinand. Aldous is _dead_ as a result of his involvement with the self-aware thorns in Top Side’s side,” Rachel snaps, fixing Ferdinand with a glare. 

“Aldous Leekie is dead?”

“Yesterday evening. He suffered a fatal heart attack on one of our jets—“

Ferdinand scoffs and Rachel purses her lips at the sound. “Is that the lie they’ve selected?”

Of course he would know the truth—he is their best cleaner. One of his associates likely wired the car, or is hunting him down as they sit here. Aldous has likely hidden himself away by now. His paranoia and eagerness to evade some of his more unique fans should prove useful.

“Yes,” Rachel confirms, her face stoic. She will not betray any emotion. “Marion has grown soft since becoming a caretaker for the youngest subject. However, given what’s happened, you and I know what _must_ be done.”

“And what is that?”

Rachel smiles over the rim of her glass and raises an eyebrow. The performance earns a nod from Ferdinand, who lifts his glass in mock salute.

“ _Helsinki_ ,” Ferdinand breathes, almost reverently. “I thought this was all a lead up to leverage to secure your position. And yet—“

There’s a pause as Ferdinand mulls his words and Rachel frowns. And yet _what_ , exactly? This is the only logical solution to their current problems—Ferdinand must see that.

“Yes?” Rachel asks after a moment, the silence clawing at her as the rest of his statement hangs heavy between them.

“I am impressed.“

Ah. He is willing. Good.

“Top Side above all.”

Ferdinand nods in agreement and she takes that as a sign to continue.

“There will only be four. And their associates—twenty seems to be a fair estimate for collateral.”

The coy grin falls from his face and instead he cocks an eyebrow and smirks, delighted at the prospect of another woman with her face falling at his feet. She’d only mentioned Sarah, Helena, and Cosima before—and the prospect of a fourth life destroyed by his hand seems to excite him.

“Four? I’ve only heard of three in our previous discussions.”

Yes, because the fourth of Sarah Manning’s _sisters_ is utterly useless, although self-aware. 

“Alison Hendrix. She and her family are utterly mundane and easily erased. Yet proximity drew them into the fold,” Rachel sighs. “The disgraced police officer seemed to think Ms. Hendrix was of some value before she ended her miserable life.”

“Self-awareness is a risk in all forms,” Ferdinand mutters after a moment, once he’s finished weighing the risks of putting another member of Project Leda down against his bloodlust.

“Yes.” Rachel agrees, lowering her voice and staring into Ferdinand’s eyes conspiratorially. Best he believe that she finds this another bit of intrigue, another _game_ they can play together. However, she’s already cast the dice and plotted her moves.

Now to convince him to play by her rules.

“I have begun preparations—“

“So Helsinki is a certainty, then? We will have to be careful—“

“Of course,” Rachel interrupts, unwilling to listen to a lecture on discretion. “The request for an internal review has been made, per protocol.”

“That justifies my travel across the Atlantic, at any rate,” Ferdinand agrees. “What other _activities_ have you undertaken?”

Rachel shifts her hands into her lap and forces down anything that might reveal the full extent of her plans. While it is necessary to alert him to the breadth and depth of her actions, he does not need to know that he will be taken by Helsinki in the end.

“Helena I leave to you—she has fallen off the grid after her arrest and is, therefore, not a primary concern.”

“But—“

Helena is not a concern at present. When she reappears, a bullet or twenty will resolve that matter without issue. 

“Doctor Nealon has filed an appeal to procure Sarah Manning’s ovary for research. That matter has cleared the review board in light of the clone illness and the promising results from the experimental treatment.”

“I do not intend to allow her to leave DYAD alive,” Rachel smiles at him, baring teeth. “As you are a former surgeon, you will handle the extraction personally.”

“Yet your nemesis will not set foot in the facility—“

“That complication is already being addressed. Doctor Cormier is far too gullible—“

“Leverage Cosima’s health for the girl?”

“No—her _daughter_.” Rachel elaborates as she finishes off her drink and motions for another. 

“Ah, the golden goose.”

Yes—her trophy. The one she can take and raise in her image, eradicating every last trace of Sarah Manning from the child, molding a worthy heir from what remains.

“Kira’s stem cells are the source of Cosima’s recovery. With her in hand, Sarah will have no choice but to surrender.”

“Cosima?” Ferdinand’s words are breathy and desperate—his arousal is apparent and she will make use of it later.

“Simply mislabel the samples and she will deteriorate rapidly. One of the lack-wits still loyal to Aldous will suffer the consequences.”

That effort is already underway. She’d forged the labels before departing, dosing Cosima with something that will speed up the process just enough to compel Sarah into action.

“And Alison Hendrix?”

“I believe chloroform and arson were your preferred methods of ridding Top Side of pests.”

“Ah a bit of nostalgia to top it all off—“

“I thought it fitting.”

“Quite the homage.” Ferdinand raises his glass to salute her and she nods.

“Once they are down, I do have one request.” Rachel whispers over the lip of her glass, the toothpick biting into her cheek. The liquor has taken effect—she is far too open at the moment, but it is too late now and there is no harm in making this intention known.

“What is it?”

“Siobhan Saddler—I want her given to me _alive_.”

“Who is she to you?”

A woman she will _destroy_.

“Sarah Manning’s mother. I want her to watch as you harvest her _daughter_. Then I want to put a bullet in her head, much like she’d threatened to do to Professor Duncan.”

“So he is alive, then?”

“Yes. He seems to care for me—we can use that to revive the program.” Rachel adds in the hopes that it will eliminate any lingering doubts.

“And earn Top Side’s pardon in the process?”

Now that he’s pieced together the contingency plan, Ferdinand is most certainly on board. Success.

“Precisely.”

“So how quickly will we be able to put everything into motion?”

“Three days—four at most,” Rachel says. “I was raised to move quickly and decisively.”

“And now?”

“Now, you will escort me to your flat, remove your trousers, and then you will explain to me, in explicit detail, exactly how you will eradicate Sarah Manning.”

“R—“

“And you will do so while inside of me,” Rachel commands before he can voice his objections. She wishes to enjoy the prospect of Sarah Manning’s demise.

“Rachel—“ Ferdinand moans, his whole demeanor shifting at the prospect of another dalliance. Of course he is—Ferdinand is predictable and easily controlled, when provided the appropriate motivation.

“Don’t falter. I will know if you do.” She stands up and waits for him to follow, then the two of them leave the bar and she follows him toward his flat—each step one closer to her goal.

While Aldous may have lost his way with Sarah Manning, Rachel Duncan has found her way toward a more certain and stable position atop Project Leda and within Top Side.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehearsal is over; now it is time to _act_.
> 
> Fool the family, take the girl, collect her prize.

Rachel studies photographs and recordings in her private office. Jim Bean, _offensively pedestrian_ , sits in a glass with three ice cubes beside her. Bourbon rocks, the unmonitored tramp’s drink of choice. It is a necessary sacrifice that will allow for her to fall into character more easily.

“Yea-s. _Yeah?_ Yeah.” Her mouth forms the word slowly, growing surer through repetition. She feels like she is thirteen again, trying on heels and fumbling into a role that doesn’t yet fit. Thankfully, _Sarah Manning_ is not a permanent transformation. She simply needs to fool Siobhan Saddler and Felix Dawkins for a moment and make off with Kira. The rest will come to fruition once the child is in hand.

_But the child is still the prize, isn’t she?_

The memory of Professor Duncan’s assessment of her motives causes her to frown. Yes, Kira is important, but not in the way that he _thinks_. Sarah Manning is the prize. Kira is simply the means to capture it. However, it is far better, should a flaw in her plan occur, that all see her motives solely based upon a desire for motherhood.

It’s a far more acceptable justification than genocide. However, a world where her own future is secure is what drives her, and Marion’s comments only prove that Rachel’s course of action is the right one.

_You were bred into this, given every advantage, but Sarah—_

The threat is inelegant, and glaringly obvious; far from Marion’s usual delivery. Aldous isn’t the only one who has lost their way with Sarah Manning, it seems. It doesn’t matter; she will redirect Top Side once she rids herself of Sarah and her _sisters_. Permanently.

Seventy-two hours and all will be as it should. Her vantage point will be unique once more and none will dare to threaten her role in the experiment. As Aldous instructed her when she was a child, “big business requires big sacrifices.”

At the time, she had thought it ominous. Now, sacrifice is a welcome companion, given those she is to offer up to protect Top Side’s bottom line.

The reports from Martin are promising. Cosima has responded as expected to the altered treatment and Professor Duncan witnessed the display. Rachel had displayed the appropriate levels of concern and thanked him for the update. Martin is resourceful; however, he is easily fooled, much like Doctor Cormier.

All it required was a few doctored photographs and a promotion for the pieces to fall into place and the parameters of her games to become clear. Doctor Cormier is a pawn, dull and worthless, except for her involvement with the subjects. But it is far easier in these circumstances to use a pawn that can be easily manipulated and discarded.

Less questions to answer, more decisions fueled by a lack of foresight.

Doctor Cormier had made quick work of returning to Siobhan Saddler’s residence. Pleading for bone marrow only twenty-four hours after negotiating for Duncan—love is weakness, and Sarah Manning loves her family—and the extraction is imminent.

Unlike Sarah, love does not drive Doctor Cormier. It’s her desperate need for recognition and her savior complex toward her subject that serve as her fatal flaw. 

_We could take this program in an entirely new direction._

The fool had eaten up every word. Idealism is a sickness that Rachel eagerly exploits.

_Let Aldous’ slut tell you of her progress in procuring Kira’s bone marrow, all wide-eyed and unsure. And then let her see that all is not as it appears—she will run like the fool she is in a false attempt at proving her worth to the lot of them. Action is more rewarding, but deception gives you cover to carry out your plans._

Benjamin Kirkland truly was a brilliant stroke by Ferdinand. One of his only moves thus far that have forced her to reconsider his inevitable demise. His experience could prove useful—if she can secure his cooperation subsequent to this action.

There are other threats to consider. Marion has made that abundantly clear.

Rachel sips her drink, cringing at the bitter taste at the back of her throat, and uses her makeup to put on an acceptable copy of Sarah’s face. Smokey eye—some lip gloss—it’s vile, really. 

“Rachel is making— _makin’_ —a move.” Her mouth forms the phrases she needs, and while the voice sounds more accurate than it had a few moments ago, it still requires additional rehearsal.

Regardless, things are in motion and Sarah _bloody_ Manning will be in hand.

With Professor Duncan at DYAD, and bearing witness to his mistakes, he should be easily convinced to hand over his research; the contingency plan secured before the others begin to feel the ramifications of Helsinki. 

Cosima’s progress indicates she will be the first to fall. Much like Icarus, she has flown too close to the sun for far too long. Quite a tragedy, that.

Alison Hendrix and her pathetic little family will be disposed of in short order. Ferdinand has informed her that he will be on the next available flight, now that the security review has been ordered. She simply has to play her role in it.

Finally, Sarah Manning, and all the family that remains to her, will crumble at Rachel’s feet. Sarah may have laid hands on her, however Rachel will do more than that.

She coils her fingers around the highball glass and takes a big swig. “I’ll _kill_ her, yeah?” 

_Better_. The bourbon has made it easier to slide into Sarah’s low-rent lit, she thinks as she fingers the syringe of midazolam tucked into the look-alike coat. It’s filled to capacity, far more of the drug than medically necessary, and Rachel intends to use it all on whomever of Sarah’s pathetic family she has the misfortune of meeting.

While she would prefer to have Siobhan Saddler _alive_ for her moment of triumph, Rachel has come to realize that efficiency should be placed above all else. It would be one less bit of collateral to eliminate after the fact. 

Her phone dings and she glances at the display. It’s security and Delphine is on the move. With a start, Rachel rises from her seat and squares her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head. Rehearsal is over; now it is time to _act_.

Fool the family, take the girl, collect her prize.

“You don’t own us,” she mimics as she gives one more cursory glance at the mirror. She still sounds far too elegant to ever be mistaken for Sarah Manning. She must commit to it fully in order to succeed. 

Lowering her voice, Rachel repeats. “You _don’t_ own us.”

Ah. Much better. She can almost hear the ghost of the unmonitored tramp in her tone. She reaches for the door and spits, “you don’t own us."

Yet, as the head of the program, she _does_ own them. And she will lay waste to them all.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prodigal daughter, returned to them. How eagerly Top Side considers allowing her take Rachel's rightful place.
> 
> Sarah Manning may have been lost and then found. However, this is not a parable or a lesson in forgiveness. She lays waste to everything Rachel holds dear and, for that, there is only one logical solution. 
> 
> _Termination._

Rachel pours the Margaux and scrubs at her face until all traces of the woman she _isn’t_ are removed. While circumstances dictate that it cannot be the same vintage, it is close enough to be a fitting homage, considering the child nestled down the hall. Another piece of Sarah Manning under her control, and unlike Paul, this acquisition will result in securing the trollop herself. 

Sarah bares her weaknesses far too liberally, and it will soon be her undoing. 

_You’re special, Rachel. All these girls who look exactly like you and you get to be in charge of them all. It’ll be our little secret._

Aldous’ comments come to her unbidden and Rachel scowls, tossing the wig into a desk drawer. The pathetic lessons of childhood mean little when they’re proven falsehoods. Her position is tenuous at best, as Marion had so blatantly confirmed hours before. 

_Sarah Manning intrigues me._

Yes, the unmonitored tramp without Rachel's advantages or her fertility problems. The prodigal daughter, returned to them. How eagerly Top Side considers allowing her take Rachel's rightful place. 

Sarah Manning may have been lost and then found. However, this is not a parable or a lesson in forgiveness. She lays waste to everything Rachel holds dear and, for that, there is only one logical solution. 

_Termination._

She relishes the thought. 

~*~ 

Her interaction with Doctor Cormier leaves the hint of a smile upon her face. Yes, the French woman had looked ever so betrayed upon realizing that her misplaced loyalty had been her undoing. Rachel quite enjoyed showing the good doctor exactly how disposable she is, now that her biggest champion is in hiding. 

Aldous has certainly moved on by now. The wanton locals of whichever island he's selected will appreciate a new source of income.

_You have everything you wanted._

_Everything DYAD wanted._

Like the rest of her ilk, Doctor Cormier forgets that Rachel's wants and DYAD's are one in the same. This is her birthright and she will leave no doubt once all of _DYAD's_ objectives are carried to fruition. 

_You forget—none of this is personal._

_If you let her die without me, it is personal._

Rachel sips her tea and makes note of her parting words. Her threat is toothless, and inconsequential, however if Delphine wishes to die with her subject, that certainly can be arranged. Plane crashes occur all the time—deregulation of the aviation industry has only made it easier to orchestrate. 

"You didn't tell them that Doctor Cormier was reassigned," Martin accuses, bursting through the door. She's rid herself of one babysitter, only to receive another in Marion's stead. 

Thankfully, Martin is her subordinate. One, it seems, who has forgotten his place. 

"Good morning, Martin." 

"Doctor Leekie left instructions on how we're supposed to treat the patient," he continues, ignoring her. So it appears that he requires a more direct approach. Given the time constraints, she will give Martin precisely what he requires to fall back into line. 

"Aldous is _dead_ ," Rachel snaps. "Or have you forgotten?" 

"Rachel." 

"Top Side demanded it," she lies. She's shaped Martin's perspective on the organization over the two-year period he's been in her employ. Every unethical business decision is at the direction of Top Side, and Rachel is merely subservient to their whims. 

It is, after all, what those lackwits desire. It is what they believe is _possible_ now that other subjects have come into self-awareness. Every useful lie is based upon a shred of the truth. 

"But—" 

"I share your disappointment, Martin. However, Sarah Manning's activities have not gone unnoticed and a review team is en route," Rachel interrupts. "Either we acquiesce now and suffer some discontent, or risk termination." 

"They wouldn't." 

Rachel clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. How _naïve_ , even for Martin. Despite the inherent value in his naiveté, she derives a certain type of pleasure in slowly jading him, one truth at a time. "They _have_. In 2006, six subjects were permanently exited from the program. I am simply protecting my _sisters_ and you, of course." 

Rachel steps away from her desk and toward Martin, feigning a look of concern. Ah, Martin, with his idealism and his need to believe in Rachel's humanity. He idealizes her and puts her upon a pedestal—she knows this and willingly uses it to her advantage. 

Martin would never suspect that her plans to rid herself of the others are in motion. His version of Rachel Duncan is innocent and caring, using her position to protect the rest. 

She _loathes_ him for it. 

Aldous originally proposed that he become her monitor. Rachel, immediately aware that this was a test and she could not reject him outright, had suggested Martin serve as her assistant instead. Rachel had pointed out that Martin lacked the proper background to keep her secure during business travel. 

The truth of it is that she prefers a different temperament in her chambers. She would ruin Martin in an hour, and where is the enjoyment in that? 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

Pathetic. If she didn't need a character witness once her actions have been carried through to fruition, she'd pin the medication error on Martin and let him suffer for it. 

"Our _superiors_ kept this hidden. I discovered it accidentally and didn't wish to share the burden." 

He appears touched by her concern. Lovely. 

"Don’t look so surprised, Martin. Knowledge carries a certain amount of risk and it was best to keep you unaware." 

"Oh, okay," Martin agrees, stumbling over his words. Yes, all it takes is some fabricated words and he has fallen even further in love with his image of her. "Thanks." 

Rachel responds with a curt nod. She has done enough to cultivate Martin's perception of her actions; any more will only show that this is all an act for her benefit. 

"Uh, Cosima, er— _the patient_ has a request." 

Of course she does. And, given the precarious position she is in, Rachel must grant it. _Well played_ , even if Cosima doesn't realize it. 

"Cosima is sufficient. I believe we're past formalities." 

"Right. Cosima wanted to know if she could visit Sarah Manning's daughter? Something about fostering cooperation." 

Rachel imagines storming down to the laboratory and injecting Cosima herself. Another needle in her palm, buried under flesh, stripping life from a woman with her face— _it's been a pleasure, Miss Niehaus_. 

She wonders why Helena ever stopped. The power is intoxicating—Felix is likely dead by now. His demise is by _her_ hand. 

However, patience is required. Rachel must protect her image above all else. The rest will meet their ends in short order. 324b21 is near death as it is, what harm could she realistically bring about? 

Very little. Likely just some additional wash for the janitorial staff when she inevitably spatters blood upon Kira's bed linens. 

"Certainly. A familiar relative will only aid in Kira's transition." 

"Ok, great," Martin chirps and heads for the door. He enjoys pleasing others—delivering _good news_. "I'll have it set up." 

"Not too long, Martin," Rachel calls after him. "We don't want poor Cosima to experience another episode." 

Martin nods and leaves without additional comment. She reaches into her desk drawer and reaches for the small bottle of Barenjager she'd received from her German delegation. She pours liberally into her tea and sips. While she cannot act, a drink is certainly in order. 

However, it seems that is not meant to be, and this interruption Rachel welcomes. Sarah has signed the consent forms and Rachel is needed in Kira's quarters. It is time to teach the vagabond her first lesson. 

Even mothers as wild as Sarah Manning have to do as their told, regardless of how little it will change the eventual outcome. 

Sarah is _hers_ and Rachel does not handle her toys with care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm continuing my tradition of not rehashing scenes we saw on the show and after a lot of thinking, and restructuring, I came to realize that this was a logical place to end this chapter. Rachel is at her highest high--her father is at DYAD, Sarah is in hand, Kira is secure, and Helsinki is imminent. 
> 
> Like we've witnessed, it's all downhill for Rachel's plan from here. And in terms of story, I think there will be about 1, possibly, 2, more additions before it's all wrapped up. As always, thank you for your comments & kudos & support. I'm so grateful that you're reading. :)


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rachel wants to create, to build—both this child and the project in her image. Her legacy is to be more than mere drawings and paintings, but the dawn of a new era of biotechnology. Something more significant than the idiotic mutterings of the neolutionists running about with their tails and white contact lenses; a future with increased profit margins and scientific discovery._

Ethan Duncan dies in front of her and takes the science with him as he goes. She watches horrified, despite her best efforts to contain her emotions, to think logically— but all she knows in that moment is that he is leaving her again. It’s selfish, impractical, illogical—and yet it is all that she can muster as his body decomposes at her feet. The psychologists assigned to her will likely work well into the night upon reviewing the footage. Present hundreds of theories as to why her response is emotional—one will cite Freud as justification, and then she will terminate them all immediately.

This is not the manifestation of repression or whatever inane psychobabble they’ve selected this month. This is her leverage disappearing in front of her, and a conscious choice to present an emotional response, that.is.all.

Rachel inhales sharply and suppresses the disjointed emotions that continue to course through her veins, she has experienced this moment fully, there is nothing left to dwell upon—Professor Duncan did not take anything else when he passed on. Certainly not her heart, or her resolve— _you can’t leave me again_ —only he _had_ left her, which simply proves that he was never her father at all.

Her anger shifts and cools the panic that had struck her moments before. Ethan Duncan does not matter to her, nor has he ever mattered to her beyond the simple fact that without his efforts, she, and this experiment would not exist. It was a merely a childish, misguided notion to think that he was a suitable partner to lead this endeavor into a new direction. One that is far more profitable and less personable than its current incarnation.

_I’m afraid you don’t deserve me anymore._

No. He does not deserve the right to make that observation, let alone for it to hang over her like a guillotine. He _ran_ while her mother burned and she made herself whole from the ashes left behind. Self-directed evolution, indeed.

Professor Duncan did not deserve _her_ —he never had, all these years, and yet the only choices he makes are the wrong ones. And Rachel is aware that he has made the poorest choice of all in allying himself with Sarah Manning and her ilk. They lack vision and clarity of purpose, believing them to be sisters, and not subjects.

How romantic. Yes, romantic and pathetic. But it is the sort of fantasy that would appeal to a dying man haunted by ghosts of his own making.

She is not so foolish as to believe that he expired without divulging the cypher to anyone. He is far too arrogant for that, and now Rachel _knows_ who has them, and exactly what sort of methods are required to retrieve them. 

She pours gin into her tea, inelegant, but necessary, given the circumstances, and finishes it in one go. Her throat burns, but she makes no show of it and places the empty cup onto the table. Soon, someone will be here to deal with the remains, and Rachel makes a note to dispose of the body in the most inhumane manner possible.

It is all he deserves.

~*~

“Auntie Rachel,” Kira smiles as she enters the dormitory. The little girl appears to have grown to like her new dwelling far quicker than she had. But she does not focus on it—with a mother like Sarah Manning, stability must be a welcome change.

Instead, Rachel ignores the way that this bit of familiarity disgusts her. Kira is a tool at her disposal, the most valuable instrument in her arsenal, in fact. So, she softens her features and gives Kira a wan smile, all that she can manage instead focusing on the bit of leverage she’s been afforded. Sarah Manning will find this bit of interaction repugnant, so it is best to foster its further growth. She must twist the knife as deep as she can and strip Sarah of all that she _is_ before disposing of her.

Kira is instrumental to that effort.

“What is it, my dear Kira?” Rachel sits at the edge of the little girl’s bed, gently patting it to indicate that Kira should come closer.

Kira smiles and grabs at a piece of paper with various drawings on it—they’re pedantic at best, however, with only a prostitute to serve as an art teacher, perhaps that is all Rachel should expect from the child. “Auntie Cosima and I did _science_ today. And then she helped me draw a picture.”

Yes, Martin’s bit of sympathy for the dying clone and her acquiescence to his request. It seems it has done more than provide cover once Helsinki is in motion; it has earned Kira’s trust.

“Did you?” Rachel fingers the drawing, her mind wandering to her youth, when Aldous informed her that such pursuits were counter to her potential. 

_Drawing is lovely, Rachel, but you are destined for greatness. A true artist composes and manipulates whole symphonies from up high. Everything falls in line under their command. Now, do you want to draw, or do you want to create?_

Rachel wants to create, to build—both this child and the project in her image. Her legacy is to be more than mere drawings and paintings, but the dawn of a new era of biotechnology. Something more significant than the idiotic mutterings of the neolutionists running about with their tails and white contact lenses; a future with increased profit margins and scientific discovery.

She nods solemnly and points to various sketches on the paper, but it is only the image of Rachel and Kira’s hands intertwined that interests her. She envisions presenting the portrait to Sarah and the anger fading from her eyes as she realizes that this time, it is her daughter abandoning her mother in favor of her betters. Yes, this is quite the trophy.

“I drew the two of us together so my mommy doesn’t get mad,” Kira finishes and Rachel turns toward the girl.

She now knows that she has won prior to any sort of bloodshed and that Helsinki will merely serve as her just deserts. Perhaps Rachel will let Sarah live, after the rest have fallen victim to Top Side’s bottom line, if only to see her daughter fade entirely from her grasp. Yes—Sarah took her father; it is only fitting that she return the favor.

“That’s lovely,” Rachel observes, as if she’s been paying attention this whole time. There had been mention of a pencil and a sheet of paper, but nothing else of note. All Kira has said is simply the inane babbling of a child who hasn’t learned how to behave properly yet. Rachel will teach Kira, just as Aldous had taught her, long ago. 

“Shall I bring it to her?”

Kira shrugs in response. Another irksome habit Rachel will have to rid her of—there are traces of Sarah all over this poor child, and she will rid her of all of them. “When can I see my mom?”

“Once she’s finished her paperwork and a few preliminary tests, I will have Martin reunite you,” Rachel lies. Kira slinks back against the headboard, but appears to be satisfied with the answer. 

Rachel glances at the clock on the nightstand and sits upright, paper in hand. Sarah’s procedure is imminent, so if she is to obtain the information she requires, there are other necessary moves that she must make. She steps toward the door and turns back toward Kira with a forced smile. “It won’t be long now.” 

~*~

The walk from Kira’s dormitory to the medical wing causes Ethan Duncan to return to the forefront of her mind. This drawing is important, yes, but it is the synthetic sequences she truly needs in order to be successful. And for that, she requires a far more specific sort of motivation.

Cosima’s life.

Personal attachments will be Sarah Manning’s undoing. There is an irony in that, which Rachel can appreciate. The orphan clone who runs from her responsibilities done in by the first bits of loyalty that she displays. Ah, to fight ones nature is to fight a losing battle.

She thumbs through a few vials of blood and tissue, searching for the ones that she requires. However, there is a lab tech there to watch her. Rachel makes a note to text Ferdinand the particulars once this matter is resolved. “Miss Duncan, what are you doing in the lab?”

“Need I remind you that I am your superior?” Rachel spits and she watches as the woman, whom she’d sent to swab Kira earlier, shrinks backward into the wall. 

“N—no ma’am,” she stumbles over her words, her left hand palming at her pockets. What, precisely, is in there? Is it a cell phone? Against regulations? She will have security search her later.

“Good.” Rachel bares teeth, still clinging to the now rolled up drawing of Kira’s, as she steps forward. “Now, where are the samples from Kira Manning?”

“Excuse me?”

Now this woman is being intentionally obtuse. She needs this marrow, Cosima’s life in her hands and Sarah quaking at her feet as she realizes that she cannot run from this—that she is as she was always meant to be—a subject in this experiment.

“The marrow that Martin Funt delivered this morning—where is it?”

“Wh—“

“Do not dare to question me Miss Evans,” Rachel hisses, her arms folded across her chest. “I will have those samples or I will have your resignation. Which is it?”

The woman scampers off to retrieve the material, handing her four vials with a flush expression. “Here—here they are Miss Duncan.”

“Is this all of them?” Rachel asks; her eyebrow raising in a challenge. She does not trust anyone in this organization, not after Marion’s threat, and she is certain that this woman is under her influence.

“Yes—yes ma’am. I’m sorry, I was just—“

“Spare me your pathetic excuses. You are to report to the desk on the fifth floor to discuss your insubordination with someone in human resources,” she finishes and spins on her heel. She doesn’t look back to ensure that the nurse follows—even the weak willed have no choice but to follow a direct order.

Marrow and drawing in hand, Rachel heads to the lift and descends toward the operating room. Soon she will have all that makes Sarah unique and the four _sisters_ will be nothing but footnotes in the history and progression of Project Leda. Oft overlooked, and incredibly unremarkable.

~*~

The memories are disjointed and fragmented, ghosts that Rachel refuses to breathe into life. There is a sound and speed and then darkness overlaying unfilled promises of information and resolution. The Cypher slipping through her fingers like grains of sand while the cowardly lion remembers how to roar and run—fast and hard and _free_. Searing pain ripping through her skin while confessions fall from her lips as a pup with talons digs into holes that should not exist.

The constant thread to all of this is Sarah—unmonitored and untethered to DYAD. However, these are merely nightmares, Rachel reminds herself. It is the drugs from the procedure, the one where Doctor Nealon rid her of the disease her father gave her and gave her life where there was only death. 

Rachel reminds herself that she has _won_. And when she recovers, she will stand atop the remnants of all her lessers and rid the corporation of all those who questioned her suitability for the seat that she has earned. 

Only, none of this is true. Her nightmares are, in fact, reality. Aldous’ pet has taken control of DYAD, where she is outmanned and outmaneuvered, even if Delphine does not know it yet. The most insulting aspect of that story is how she used Sarah in a pathetic attempt to hide her.

Doctor Nealon assures her that Sarah was awful at it. Not that Rachel expected anything else. While there are several women with her face, there is only one Rachel. And despite her predicament, she is still their better.

The damage to her eye and her mobility only fuel Rachel’s desire for revenge. It is only later, after Nealon informs her of her demise—a plane crash over the Atlantic, how unoriginal—that she begins to plan her next move.

_Sadly, the Rachel Duncan Top Side knew has passed._

She could have let him know what, exactly, he had shown her when the Castor logo was presented to her. However, Rachel knows better than to play her hand too soon, and the ill effects of acting too rashly. To allow Nealon to know that she is aware of Project Castor and the players within it would expose Rachel’s ultimate objective—assuming control of both projects and profiting from all angles.

However, she now knows that Nealon is truly loyal to her. And while the most efficient means of regaining her position and stature may be gone to her, there are other avenues in play.

She's a ghost now. And she will _haunt_ them until they beg for her to end their miserable lives. And so Rachel listens to Nealon’s plans—how to earn their trust through their weak flank—Scott Smith. Nealon can be useful, as all opportunists are, and she will reward him, once she is returned to her rightful place and Helsinki is finally complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over!! Sorry for the delay in finishing this--I need to get in a really specific mood to write Rachel well and I finally got into that headspace. Thank you for sticking with me, all your support, comments, kudos etc. and I hope that you enjoyed this bit of Rachel. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Rachel masterminding a systemic elimination of her genetic identicals kind of... blew my mind. So I want to explore how she got to that point. There will probably be about 3-5 parts, all feeding into specific points of canon from the Pro Clone's pov.
> 
> Oh and I joined [tumblr](http://thewildertype.tumblr.com). So you can follow me, if you want. I have lots of thoughts about Helsinki. And Darth! Cormier. And you know... Clexa pick up lines.


End file.
